I’m going to skip step #4, as I tend not to bother people when I can avoid it (more seldom than you might imagine). Here’s the seven sentences from page seven:

“I couldn’t imagine why I’d stayed away for so long. The Druid Hill Club was about as old as some of the Square States, founded just after the Civil War by Baltimore’s industry kings. Since that time, all manner of notable politicians and businessmen frequented the club for its atmosphere, seclusion, and the company of young women.

It was exactly my kind of joint.

“Hell with it,” I grumbled as I plunged out into the evening, my shoes crunching on the gravel alongside the pavement.

There was a time when I would drive directly up to the porte cochere, hand the valet my keys, and plunge into a world of discrete inebriation. By the time I reached the double oak doors, however, I didn’t even see a valet on duty. “

If you’re an author with a blog, and you see this… consider yourself tagged!